


The Case of the Missing Laundry

by Miko



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Cute, Family Bonding, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 22:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15694710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: Hank would be thrilled that Connor insists on doing the laundry - except now his favourite clothes have started to disappear.





	The Case of the Missing Laundry

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of father-figure bonding but could totally be read as pre-slash :)

Hank never had really gotten the hang of doing laundry. When his ex-wife left after Cole's death tore their marriage apart, he'd been forced to learn enough to be able to cope, but that was it. He took his suits and work shirts to the dry cleaner once a month or so, and threw his underwear and casual clothes into the wash in one big load. 

After the first time he ended up with a lot of pink boxers and t-shirts, Hank started buying nothing but dark colours and black. That way he didn't have to worry about sorting the shit.

When Connor accepted Hank's gruff invitation to come stay with him, the android quietly took over the chore. Hank tried to object, feeling vaguely guilty about using the guy the same way androids had been forced to serve humans for so long. 

Connor grinned and replied that since he had to wash his own clothes, and didn't trust Hank to be able to handle it properly, it was just as easy for him to do both their laundry at the same time. Hank gave in with what was probably ill-concealed relief.

At least, until random pieces of his favourite clothing started disappearing.

Granted, his machine had always hungrily devoured socks. It was why he bought the same kind every time, so he never had more than one lonely sock. Sometimes it even chewed up larger things; he had absolutely no idea where his old Nirvana band shirt had disappeared to ages ago, for example. But that was rare, maybe once every five years, and more likely he'd left the clothing in a bag somewhere and forgotten it.

When the first shirt went missing, he didn't think much of it. The second one to disappear made him scowl, but he figured it was just bad luck. 

When his favourite jeans went missing, however, he confronted Connor. It took for fucking ever to break in a pair of jeans to the point that they were as comfortable as any pajama pants.

"Are you throwing my shit away? I don't care if there's holes, I still want them or I'd throw them away myself." Hank’s ex-wife had frequently bitched about his ‘rag-bag’ casual wardrobe, and threatened to chuck the worst offenders in the trash on a regular basis.

"Lieutenant, I would never throw away something of yours without your permission," Connor assured him, doing that wide-eyed innocent thing the android was so good at. Hank stared him down, looking for signs of a lie. Androids these days _could_ lie, and most of them showed pretty much the same tells as humans when they did it.

With Connor, he couldn't be sure whether the guy was telling the truth, or just that damn good. He'd bet money on the latter being _possible_ , but that didn't mean it was actually the case. And it was true that Connor was respectful of Hank's space and belongings in every other way. 

"Well, keep an eye out for them," Hank grumbled. "I want those jeans back, damn it. I've only got the one pair, and I don't wanna buy new ones."

The next week, Connor cheerfully deposited the missing jeans on top of the pile of clean clothes he brought to Hank's room. "I apologize, Lieutenant. It appears they slipped off the counter and fell behind the washing machine when I was folding dry items. I take full responsibility."

It was an effort not to cradle the jeans to his chest like a lost baby. "What about the shirts?" Hank asked.

"Unfortunately, they were not with the jeans in the laundry room," Connor apologized, sounding as if he took personal responsibility for the loss. With anyone else, Hank might have read culpability into that, but it was just Connor's nature. 

Nothing else went missing for nearly a month. Then his DCPD hoodie disappeared. "What the hell?" Hank stormed out of his room after tearing his whole dresser apart. He'd even checked the closet, figuring Connor might well be the kind of anal ass who'd hang up t-shirts like they were fancy. "Connor, I'm missing an oversized sweater, now. How the hell could that thing get lost?"

"I promise, I am keeping an eye out for the items," Connor said, brow creased with concern. "I'm certain they'll turn up sooner or later. They've just been misplaced."

Growling, Hank kicked the washing machine hard. Then he groaned and hopped on one foot, his toes aching. “Son of a bitch. I’m going to take a bat to this damn thing, see if I don’t.”

Two weeks after that, Hank couldn’t find his most comfortable pair of boxers. They’d been a gag gift from his old partner, with giant red hearts all over them - the source of the ruined pink wash, in fact. Gag or not, they were the best pair he had, and he loved them. 

Frustrated, he all but tore the house apart. Nothing… except he found the first two missing shirts tucked into the back corner of his t-shirt drawer. Where he’d already looked for them fifty times before.

Hank was seriously starting to doubt his own sanity, because there was no other explanation for why things kept disappearing, and now turning up again as if they’d never been gone. Maybe all that alcohol really had addled his brains, damn it.

Perhaps he should set up a nanny-cam or something... fuck, no. That way lay true insanity. Not to mention gross invasion of privacy. Now that Hank had come to truly see Connor as a person, not just a plastic shell, he couldn't bring himself to violate the other man that way. Hell, this was what he got for allowing another person to invade his space and private life.

But what the fuck was he supposed to do after Cyberlife shut down and Connor lost the only 'home' he'd ever known? Leave the orphaned android on the street to fend for himself? When Hank was literally the only friend Connor had to turn to? Even Hank wasn't that much of an asshole.

Never mind that he could have offered the space temporarily, until Connor got his feet under him. It wasn't that Hank enjoyed the company, he just felt sorry for the guy. Really.

Thing was, the den Hank had cleared out for Connor to use for his personal space was the one room in the house that he hadn't yet searched. Hank could think of no earthly reason why his still-missing sweater and boxers would be in the android's 'bedroom', but until he _checked_ , the possibility was going to drive him crazy.

So he waited for a day off when he'd awoken late, and there was no sign of Connor in the house. Usually the android left a note if he was going out shopping or whatever, but either he'd forgotten this time or Hank wasn't seeing it for some reason. It didn't matter. He had the place to himself, probably for a couple of hours, and Hank was on a mission.

Sternly, he told himself not to feel guilty as he turned the knob of Connor's room and discovered it unlocked. This was _his_ house, bought and paid for, and he had the right to go anywhere in it that he wanted.

Yeah, that wasn't believable even in his own mind. But he _had to know_.

He eased the door open, and was brought up short at the sight of Connor lying in the bed, on top of the covers. He was sound asleep, or whatever passed for sleep in androids - low energy mode or whatever.

He was also wearing Hank's missing pair of boxers, and the DCPD sweater, with the hood up and his face snuggled into it like he was smelling it or something. There was the tiniest hint of a smile on his face, and Hank wondered if androids dreamed.

Standing in the doorway, Hank stared. Then he stared some more. It made no sense. "What the fuck, Connor?" he demanded, bewildered more than angry.

The loud question jerked the android awake. Surging up into a sitting position, Connor blinked up at Hank. The hood fell back with the motion, revealing his LED flashing yellow as Connor processed the unexpected intrusion. He looked at Hank, then glanced down and appeared to realize what he was wearing.

Androids couldn't blush, but Connor gave a damn good impression of it with his body language. "Ah. Lieutenant. I can explain."

"Yeah?" Crossing his arms, Hank leaned against the doorjamb, eyebrow raised. "I can't wait to hear this."

There was silence for a second, then Connor cleared his throat. "It was my understanding that we weren't to enter each other's rooms without explicit permission," he said instead, adopting a stern tone.

Hank snorted. "Nice attempt at redirection. Try again." He wasn't above using the same tactic himself to avoid dealing with the fact that he really _shouldn't_ be in here.

Another silence, Connor's LED flickering wildly. The yellow had shifted to deep orange, skirting close to outright red. Hell, maybe that _was_ his equivalent of going red in the face. It certainly could denote anger in a deviant, so why not embarrassment?

Finally the android swallowed, and lowered his eyes. "I apologize," he said, stiff and awkward. "There is no excuse for my actions. I will return the missing items immediately."

"Okay, but _why_?" Hank shook his head. "You own plenty of clothes. I oughtta know, since I helped you buy them. Why steal mine?"

Sighing, Connor swung off the bed to stand, so he could look Hank in the eyes. He looked rather ridiculous draped in Hank's hoodie, enormously oversized on his thinner frame, like a child playing dress-up in his father's clothes. 

In fact, a memory flashed before Hank's eyes of Cole in a sweater very much like that one, running around the house with the sleeves flapping because they were too long for his arms, the hem coming down to his knees.

It hurt, and he missed the first part of what Connor was saying, tuning in halfway through. "...seemed so insistent that the older clothes were more comfortable. I wanted to try it, and of course all of mine are new. Then I discovered you were correct, and..." He trailed off, seemingly not certain what else to say. 

"For god's sake, Connor. There's such a thing as used clothing stores." Hank rolled his eyes. "If you'd just said something, we coulda gone and gotten you some."

Connor turned his head, avoiding meeting Hank's eyes. It was amazing sometimes how incredibly real his body language could be; his shoulders were tense, eyes down, every inch of him radiating embarrassment. "They wouldn't smell like you."

"What?" Hank straightened, arms dropping as he stared all over again. Hell, he'd even been thinking that it looked like Connor was sniffing the hood, but he hadn't thought it was true. "Connor, that's something _Sumo_ does, sleeping on my bed while I'm out, to keep my scent with him."

"Well... yes." Connor tipped his head to the side. "That was what gave me the idea. It's quite pleasant. I... enjoy having you near even when you're not."

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose. Connor _wasn't human_ , he reminded himself sharply. Programmed by humans, created in their image and intended to mimic them, but still not actually one of them. Exploring his freedom to be deviant meant _not_ being forced to stick to the human behavioural constraints that had been imposed on him at creation. 

And hell if it wasn't kinda sweet that the kid wanted to keep Hank close. 

"Okay," he said, lifting his head. Connor was startled into looking up as well, meeting Hank's eyes with astonishment at the capitulation. Hank raised a scolding finger at him. " _One_ thing per week, then you return it with the next laundry. Doesn't do you any good if it's been too long since I wore it anyway, right? And shirts only. You'd _better_ not be sniffing my damn shorts. We'll buy you some used jeans and boxers. Deal?"

"I... yes. Deal." A bemused smile quirked Connor's lips. "Thank you, Hank. I realize this is..."

"Weird as fuck?" Hank inserted when Connor hesitated to search for a word. His tone was dry, but he couldn't quite keep an answering smile off his face. 

"Irregular," Connor countered. "And I do apologize for the deception. Ah, for the record, I didn't actually _lie_ to you at any point, just misdirected." He raised an eyebrow. "And you're not off the hook for coming into my room uninvited, either."

"How 'bout we call it even?" Hank suggested, and clapped him on the shoulder. He followed that up by pulling the android into an awkward one-armed hug, then ruffled Connor's hair with his free hand. "You're a freak. But you're my freak. Next time, just fucking ask, idiot."

"Because you're always so forthright and upfront?" Connor teased him, smile turning to a grin. 

That expression, _real_ in a way none of his smiles had been before going deviant, was one of the top reasons Hank kept him around. It was a pleasure to watch the kid growing into who he was, fumbling his way into what it meant to be alive. Connor was absolutely not a replacement for Cole, and would never try to be. Hank's heartache over his son's death would never fade.

But damn, Hank could feel proud as any parent over Connor.


End file.
